


More than you bargained for

by stealing-jasons-job (changingthefairy_tale)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Bellarke, Broarke, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, The 100 (TV) Season 4, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changingthefairy_tale/pseuds/stealing-jasons-job
Summary: “I’m proposing a political alliance between you and I — King of Azgeda and Wanheda.”Clarke blinks. He’s suggesting that they get married, as a show of faith? She has half a mind to laugh at him because the suggestion is so ridiculous. Roan’s looking at her expectantly. She doesn’t really have an answer for him, so she responds the only way she can — sarcasm.“And what about Bellamy? I’m just supposed to leave him out in the cold?”He gives her a knowing grin at that, and a smile breaks out across her face. Thank God, he’s joking. Damn, she has to get better at reading his facial expressions to tell when he’s fucking with her.That surprisingly makes her feel better. If Roan is making jokes about marriage alliances, then he must think they’ll be okay.***Or, the one where a joke turns into a three-way engagement that turns into very real feelings.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin/Roan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 90
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	More than you bargained for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparklyfairymira (myonetruelove)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myonetruelove/gifts).



> I'M BACK! This winter kicked my ass — physically with how busy I was and mentally with my mental health. Add in the fact that I took on way too much (as one does when they are incapable of saying no to responsibility even at the detriment of their own health), and you've got a super fun cocktail that leads to taking way too long to get anything done. But I was finally able to finish this one-shot for the ever-magical (and hella patient) Miranda. What started as a crack prompt turned into a crack prompt + feelings + smut. So I hope you all enjoy it (especially you, Miranda)!
> 
> This my first OT3 fic and definitely my first threesome smut, so please be kind. <3 Written for [t100fic4blm initiative!](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)

Clarke loves mornings, that world between the nightmares that come with sleep and the wars that come with being awake. Right as the sun is rising, she can curl into her blankets and feel content, at peace for just a few minutes. 

When she burrows herself further into the bed, she feels something solid against her back. The warmth that radiates where her shoulder blades touch the hard planes of a chest tells her that it’s Bellamy curled up behind her. Without thinking, she moves even closer to him, her body reacting to his presence on instinct. 

She curses herself for doing so, potentially waking him up and forcing him to move away from her. But the only movement he makes is to throw an arm over her waist to pull her flush against him. After fighting a shiver at the way she fits against his chest and the way his arm bands across her stomach, Clarke lets herself sink into him. 

God, she loves mornings. 

She’s been waking up like this more frequently as of late. Ever since they got back to Arkadia after the City of Light fiasco in Polis, she and Bellamy have been spending more and more time together. 

Sometimes, they stay up late strategizing trade routes with other clans and accidentally fall asleep together in Kane’s office. Sometimes, one will have a nightmare and make the walk to the other’s room for comfort — each being the only other person in camp who truly understands the other’s lingering guilt of Mt. Weather and everything that’s happened since. And sometimes, they just don’t feel like making up an excuse as to why they have to separate at the end of a long and taxing day, falling into bed too exhausted to care about the fact that they’ve yet to discuss what all the platonic bed-sharing means. 

They’re floating at the edge of something, and Clarke isn’t sure what. They are finally back in sync after months of feeling like two puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit anymore, and Clarke is so grateful to have her closest friend and partner back at her side. 

But that sense of partnership and connection with him is matched with a new tension, as if their relationship is balanced on the precipice of something. And she isn’t sure which way it will fall. 

She lets herself have a few more minutes surrounded by Bellamy, his breath even and steady against the back of her neck. But as the light coming through the lone window in her room grows brighter, Clarke knows she has to get up. There’s too much to do, too much at stake, for her to hide away under her blankets and the tanned, muscular arm of her best friend. 

With a regretful sigh, she gently moves out from under Bellamy’s arm. Forever a light sleeper, Bellamy rouses with the movement and opens his eyes. Though he’s an early riser alongside Clarke, he’s an angrier riser — his face is twisted in agitation at the idea of having to get out from underneath the covers. And his face will remain that way until someone — usually Raven — thrusts a cup of rationed coffee at him. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she teases, reaching her arms above her head in a full-body stretch. He puts a pillow over his face, and Clarke chuckles at the muffled groan she hears. 

“You’re the Princess in this relationship,” his sleep-hoarse voice complains after a moment, him chucking the pillow that was over his face at her. Her heart does a small skip at the word relationship, but she reminds herself that he probably meant it in the platonic sense. 

“Come on, Roan and a few of the other clan ambassadors are set to arrive today. Winter will be here soon, and we have to have alliances drawn up and trade routes established if we have any hope of surviving.” He waves a hand at her, grunting before pulling himself into a sitting position. Clarke just rolls her eyes as she heads into the adjoined bathroom to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. 

She hears him lace up his boots, and then he’s in the doorway watching her in the mirror. After a moment, she meets his eyes in their reflection with a smirk. “What?” 

“You missed a spot,” he says, his own smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. He taps twice on his chin, and Clarke quickly wipes at the spot of toothpaste that was left on her own. 

Bellamy leaves shortly after to shower and change in his own room, leaving Clarke to mull over the proposed trade agreement they’d settled on last night. With any luck, Roan and the other ambassadors would also agree to it. 

*** 

The first meeting of the day doesn’t go as planned. The other clans don’t exactly trust the Sky People. Clarke can’t entirely blame them, between the continued whispers of _Wanheda_ , the reputation the delinquents have garnered for starting a war with TriKru, and the grounder army massacre that happened while Pike was in power… she wouldn’t be keen to trust in their shoes, either. 

Each ambassador leaves the conference room one-by-one, leaving only Kane, Roan, Clarke, and Bellamy in the large room. 

“That went well,” Roan comments smugly. He’d warned Clarke weeks earlier that the ambassadors would need a show of faith to start trusting Skaikru and the people of Arkadia. Their word on a fair trade agreement wouldn’t be enough. It seems he’s right. 

“We had to start somewhere,” Kane says calmly. Clarke is amazed at how he stays calm during everything, as if unfazed by the frustrations of being in charge. Perhaps it’s just another example of why she shouldn’t be in charge. What had Bellamy said when she’d come back to plead with him about retaliating for the Mt. Weather explosion? _People die when you’re in charge._

He’s since apologized — they both have — for the things said and done out of fear and anger. But that comment still sits at the back of her mind, a constant thread of doubt in her legitimacy as a leader. 

She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest as she slumps farther down in her chair. Bellamy catches the movement and gives her an encouraging, albeit tight, smile. 

“Look, it was worth a shot. And the ambassadors agreed that the terms set were amicable. They just don’t trust that we’ll hold up our end of the bargain,” Bellamy says with a shrug. 

Roan just rolls his eyes. “I wonder why,” he mutters, almost too low to hear. But they all do. Bellamy’s fist clenches at his side, and Clarke speaks up. 

“Sarcasm isn’t helping,” she chastises. “And unless you can come up with an actual solution, get out so the rest of us can brainstorm.” 

Kane’s eyes widen slightly at the way she speaks to the newly crowned King of Azgeda, but Roan’s smile just widens. Clarke has found a friend of sorts in Roan, regardless of how tense their acquaintanceship began back when he’d kidnapped her to bring to Lexa. 

He’s easy to talk with, someone she never had to pretend with. Roan sees the dark parts of her, mirrored in his own heart, and respects her anyway. Plus, there are few people she shares her sense of humor with. Bellamy and Roan are pretty much the only ones she feels truly understand her. Maybe Murphy, but she isn’t sure their relationship could ever be called a friendship after the pain she’d directly and indirectly caused him. 

“I actually do have an idea, thank you. But I’d rather discuss it without an audience,” he comments, side-eyeing the other men in the room. Clarke sees Bellamy roll his eyes as he stands, and she fights the urge to grin at him. 

“You know where you find me, Princess,” he mutters, dropping a reassuring hand to her shoulder as he passes. She reaches a hand up to cover his, giving it a quick squeeze in thanks. 

Kane simply bows his head briefly before making his own exit. 

“That was unnecessary,” Clarke accuses, leveling Roan with an irked look. “They need to be part of the process — especially Kane. He’s the chancellor of Skaikru.” 

“It was necessary,” he argues back, getting up from his chair to move in front of Clarke. He leans up against the table, now much closer. “I have something serious to discuss.” 

His eyebrows are drawn together in concentration, and his hazel eyes are open and sincere. Clarke sits up straighter in her chair, readying herself for what he has to say. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. 

“I told you that you need a show of faith in order for the other clans to accept Skaikru. You need to build bridges, create lasting bonds with other clans — show them that you are serious about being part of this new coalition.” 

“I know that, Roan,” Clarke huffs. “But those things take time, time we don’t have before winter hits.” 

“Well, I actually have an idea. But I want you to hear me out before making a judgment.” 

“If you know I won’t like it, why are you proposing it?” she grumbles at him, though she has to admit that he’s piqued her curiosity. 

“Will you shut up and let me get this out?” he shoots back barely a breath after she’s finished talking. She can’t help but grin at the small outburst, a rare occurrence for the King of Azgeda. 

Rather than respond, Clarke moves as if zipping her mouth shut with her eyes wide and a good-natured grin still on her face. 

“There is a way to secure alliances quickly, which would show the other clans that Skaikru is dedicated to the coalition…” 

When he trails off, breaking eye contact with Clarke to stare at the floor, she speaks up again. “I’m listening…” 

“A marriage alliance,” he finishes, his eyes darting back up to hers. 

“Between whom? We had arranged marriages on the Ark all the time, but I think you’ll be hard-pressed to find many Skaikru willing to marry into clans with people they don’t know. The lack of trust goes both ways for a lot of people.” 

“I’m not talking about random alliances between Skaikru and other clans. I’m talking about one, very strategic political marriage that would establish a lasting alliance between two clans that were previously enemies.” 

“Stop talking in riddles and spit it out,” she says, trying not to let her impatience show. 

Despite being a generally blunt man, Roan has a habit of giving solutions as if he is a genie. Clarke thinks it has to do with the difference between the English language and the languages the clans speak. Or maybe Roan just enjoys being cryptic. 

“I’m proposing a political alliance between you and I — King of Azgeda and Wanheda.” 

Clarke blinks. He’s suggesting that they get married, as a show of faith? She has half a mind to laugh at him because the suggestion is so ridiculous. 

Yes, they are friends. And she’s not ashamed to admit she’s attracted to him. But you need more than a half-baked friendship and a willingness to have sex to get married! Clarke’s only 18, almost 19 at this point. She shouldn’t be marrying anyone, nonetheless a grounder king who kidnapped her not too long ago. 

Roan’s looking at her expectantly. She doesn’t really have an answer for him, so she responds the only way she can — sarcasm. 

“And what about Bellamy? I’m just supposed to leave him out in the cold?” 

He gives her a knowing grin at that, and a smile breaks out across her face. Thank God, he’s joking. Damn, she has to get better at reading his facial expressions to tell when he’s fucking with her. 

“Polyamory is quite common among the clans. If anything, two of Skaikru’s leaders joining in on an alliance should hold more clout with the other clans,” he deadpans with a shrug. Clarke is still fighting a grin. Sometimes she wishes she had the ability to keep a straight face during a joke like Roan. 

“Yeah, okay. Tell me what Bell says when you talk to him,” she replies, patting his knee as she stands. 

“Will do.” 

That surprisingly makes her feel better. If Roan is making jokes about marriage alliances, then he must think they’ll be okay. 

*** 

After dinner that night, Clarke is in Bellamy’s room going over the trade agreements again. There has to be some way for them to get the rest of the clans to realize how serious they are about peace and the coalition. Hell, Kane had a goddamn brand on his arm from the first coalition. 

They’re both on his bed, Bellamy propped up against the wall and Clarke sitting crisscross at the end of the bed. Their eyes meet when there is a short but firm knock at the door. Who would need to talk to Bellamy this late? 

“Your booty call sounds impatient,” Clarke comments with a chuckle. 

“I think the beautiful blonde sitting at the end of my bed would probably deter most booty callers,” he shoots back with a wry smile as he gets up, and Clarke wills her heartbeat to settle after the flip it makes in her chest. 

Bellamy swings open his door, and Clarke cranes her neck to see who is visiting. She’s surprised to see it’s Roan. 

He walks past Bellamy into the small room, and if he’s surprised to see Clarke there, he doesn’t show it. 

“Oh good, you’re both here.” 

“You wanted to speak to both of us?” Bellamy questions. Roan and Bellamy certainly aren’t enemies, but they also aren’t particularly close. She and Bellamy have both discussed in passing how neither one of them would object to sleeping with the man (anyone who has looked at him would not blame them for that assessment), but Bellamy can hold a grudge with the best of them and Roan _had_ stabbed him and threatened Clarke’s life not horribly long ago. 

“I already talked to Clarke about it briefly, but it now concerns you, too.” 

Clarke gives him a confused look. What had they discussed that needs to be run by Bellamy? The man in question shoots Clarke a look, but she just gives him a subtle shrug. 

“The best way for Skaikru to show the clans that you’re serious about being part of the new coalition is to unite with another clan through a political marriage alliance. I know you wouldn’t be keen on Clarke getting married off without you, so I’m open to a three-way marriage alliance with the three of us. It makes sense, and the other clans would accept it.” 

Clarke freezes. Fuck. He’d been kidding about that earlier, right? So he has to be just kidding about it now. But then again, would he come to Bellamy’s room just to make that joke? Especially not knowing Clarke was there and not being close friends with Bellamy? 

Oh god. A pit lodges itself into Clarke’s stomach as she stares at Roan with wide, panicked eyes. How is she going to talk her way out of this to explain that she thought Roan was kidding and she didn’t actually propose a three-way marriage? 

“I didn’t —” she jumps in to explain herself, but Roan puts a hand up to shush her. 

“It’s a lot to ask, I know. It would be purely political. What you two do in your spare time is your business.” Clarke flushes at the insinuation, but she doesn’t say anything. “But this would help establish Skaikru as a real member of the coalition while also showing that Azgeda is willing to set aside bygones. It’s beneficial for all parties involved.” 

For perhaps the longest minute of Clarke’s life, Bellamy is silent. He’s not looking at Roan or Clarke, instead studying some unidentifiable spot on the floor near his feet. His lips are pursed, and his eyebrows are drawn together as if he’s actually considering Roan’s words. 

He’s probably trying to think of a way to politely decline without insulting his best friend or a clan leader who already has a penchant for threatening his life. 

After a moment, Bellamy’s eyes lift to meet Clarke’s. She’s not entirely sure she’s blinked since Roan first opened his mouth, her eyes still wide like a deer caught in the Rover’s headlights. 

“Sure.” 

And for the second time that day, Clarke is metaphorically knocked on her ass. 

“Sure?” she repeats, exasperated. 

“Look, we need this coalition to stick. And we need these trade terms agreed upon and the routes established before winter or we’re dead — literally. If the answer is a political marriage alliance with Azgeda, I’m willing to give it a shot.” 

This is just like Bellamy — jumping in head-first without even thinking about the sacrifice he’s making. The marriage alliance was supposed to be a joke. Something to relieve the tension in the room after getting her ass handed to her by the other clans. 

“Good to hear. We can iron out details tomorrow morning after breakfast. I’ll leave you two in peace.” Roan leaves the room as quickly as he entered, Clarke still staring at Bellamy dumbstruck and a little pissed off. 

“Sure?” she repeats once they are alone. 

“Are you just going to repeat that for the rest of the night?” 

“‘Sure’ is the answer you give when someone asks if you would like a drink, not what you say when someone proposes a three-way marriage alliance out of the blue!” she explodes. 

“What was I supposed to say? ‘No, thanks, I’d rather my people die of starvation and possibly hypothermia in a few months’?” He’s pacing now, one hand running through his curls. “Plus, you’re the one who suggested it to Roan!” 

“I thought he was joking!” she whisper-yells back at him through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice low so that others wouldn’t hear. Arkadia didn’t have the thickest walls between rooms. “Not in a million years did I think he would be serious about getting married to me, nonetheless to both of us.” 

He stops pacing at that, turning to look at her. If she didn’t know him better, she’d say he looks a little hurt at that statement. 

“Right, it’s absolutely ridiculous,” he almost spits at her. 

Clarke sighs, deciding to go at this another way. She climbs off the bed, and takes the two steps to stand right in front of Bellamy. She reaches out to grab his hand, but he flinches away at the contact. 

“Look, if you want me to tell Roan I don’t agree, I will. You don’t have to marry me.” He’s shutting down, his voice going gruff and his body posture closing her out. She hates it when he does this. 

She takes the final step to close the gap between them, reaching her hand up to touch his face. He tries to move her hand away, but she stays firm until he turns to look at her. 

“You are always so quick to throw yourself on whatever sword presents itself in the name of protecting everyone else,” she says when he finally meets her eyes, her voice almost pleading. “I do not want you throwing away your shot at happiness, at a family, because of some twisted sense of duty to Arkadia or to me.” 

“That’s not what this is,” he responds quietly. Clarke drops her hand, taking a step back. 

“That’s exactly what this is, Bellamy. And I won’t let you do it!” 

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I want this?!” She recoils a bit at the harshness of his tone, and he softens at her reaction. He turns away from her suddenly, both of his hands lodging into his hair. 

After a second, she starts to process what he’s just said. 

“Bellamy…” she reaches out, touching his back lightly. He turns back to face her slowly, his hair mused and a slightly sheepish grin painted across his features. 

“Adding Roan to the mix is unexpected, but at least he’s nice to look at,” he shrugs, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

Clarke lets out a soft chuckle at that, but it doesn’t last long. “Bellamy, this is serious.” 

“I am serious.” The thing is, he does look serious when he meets her eyes. He looks like he’s thought about this, like he’s ready to jump headfirst into a marriage with her and Roan without regrets. And the intensity in his eyes, the devotion, is terrifying to a girl who’s lost everyone she’s ever truly cared about. 

“You want to marry me and Roan.” She says it as a statement rather than a question, but she can’t hide the disbelief in her voice as she tries her best not to shy away from Bellamy’s gaze. 

“The truth?” She gives a slight nod, transfixed by him and his nearness. “I always kind of assumed I would marry you one day, if you’d let me, if we could ever figure out peace for our people.” 

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. To be honest, she isn’t entirely sure she’s still breathing. 

“And Roan already said it would be purely political, so it’s not like I’m committing to an intimate relationship with Roan.” 

“But you want an...intimate relationship with me?” she asks hesitantly. He reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering to cup her cheek. His thumb runs gently across her cheekbone, and she can’t help but lean into the contact. 

“Marrying you to establish peace? That’s not me falling down on some metaphorical sword. That’s me getting everything I want in one fell swoop.” 

One side of his mouth is tilted up ever so slightly, those deep brown eyes keeping Clarke captivated. “Bellamy…” 

But before she can say anything else, he cuts her off with his lips on hers. It’s a gentle kiss, certainly more gentle than she would have expected from Bellamy. His lips are cautious, and Clarke realizes that he’s holding back in case she wants to pull away. 

Instead, she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. He makes a quiet sound of surprise at the back of his throat, something akin to a groan and a whimper melded into one. Then his other arm wraps around her waist to splay firmly across her back. 

He devours her, lips demanding and insistent. His tongue traces the seam of her mouth until she opens for him. She gives as good as she gets, nipping at the scar over his lip before soothing it with her tongue. Her hands wander, unwilling to stay still after being deprived for so long the feeling of his body beneath her fingertips. 

And he seems to have no complaints, stepping them backwards without breaking contact until Clarke feels the cool metal of the wall through the shirt on her back. 

The next morning, Clarke wakes up with the most delicious soreness between her legs and a wicked smile on her lips. 

  
  


*** 

That first night with Bellamy changes everything. Now that they are both on the same page about each other, and about the prospect of marrying into Azgeda for the political alliance it would bring, things get so much easier. 

Of course, her mom balks at the idea of her daughter marrying not one but two men so young. And even Kane expresses worries about her sacrificing herself. 

But Bellamy reaches out to take her hand, and the two older leaders catch the movement and Clarke’s reaction to it immediately. 

“I’m not sacrificing myself. And neither is Bellamy. We’ve made this decision together, and we think this is the best way for us to be happy while bringing peace.” 

Kane gives them both a knowing look. “In that case, I wish you both the best. An alliance with Azgeda will certainly help with the other clans, and a direct line to the King won’t hurt either.” 

Abby takes more convincing, but once she realizes after a few weeks that this new change in dynamic isn’t going anywhere, she begins to accept it, too. 

They announce their formal engagement at a coalition meeting, the three of them standing with interlocked hands at the front of the room. And the other clans are thrilled by the news, offering congratulations and much respect to the trio. In the days that follow, trade agreements are made and finalized. 

It’s like this one decision opens up the doors for true happiness and peace. Everything starts to fall into place, and it’s honestly bewildering for Clarke. 

“This is insane,” she admits after their first successful trade negotiation, as she’s walking in between Bellamy and Roan to the mess hall for lunch. 

“What do you mean, Wanheda?” Roan is the only person who can call her that without sounding fearful. Instead, there’s an air of reverence to the title that makes her blush. 

“I feel like another shoe is about to drop.” At Roan’s confused expression, Bellamy laughs. 

“Things are going well, which means Clarke is going to overthink things until something goes wrong,” he clarifies, giving her interlaced hands a teasing squeeze. She knocks her shoulder against him in protest.

“You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true,” she points out as they reach the doors. 

Once they grab food and sit down at a table off to the edge of the indoor seating space, Bellamy speaks again. “There is no other shoe. This is called peace, and you’ve worked hard for us all to get here. Just breathe, Princess.” 

Clarke can’t help but lean in for a quick kiss at his supporting words. She keeps it chaste, though she’s longing to deepen the kiss. Everyone knows at this point that they are in a relationship (and getting married), but Clarke is still new to the idea that she can touch him and kiss him whenever she wants. 

“That’s not breathing,” he smirks at her, eliciting a giggle. 

“Multitasking,” she throws back, reaching out to steal an apple slice from his tray. When she turns back to Roan sitting across from him, she can’t decipher the look on his face. 

The rest of their lunch passes quickly, the three of them discussing the afternoon’s meetings and making plans to talk more privately later that night about the wedding ceremony. Bellamy splits off from the group as they leave for his guard shift, leaving Clarke and Roan to walk back across Arkadia alone. 

“You were quiet most of lunch,” she comments, not feeling quite comfortable with the silence. She could hear the gears turning in his head, and she wonders if this is what Bellamy feels like when she’s the one trapped in her own thoughts. 

He hums noncommittally, and Clarke stops and reaches out to grab his wrist. 

“What’s wrong? Are you worried about this next round of meetings? I know I said I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but that’s just—” he cuts her off with a shake of his head and a sigh. 

“It’s not about the coalition or the trade agreements. Those are airtight and fair; the rest of the clans will agree to them.” When Clarke doesn’t respond, raising her eyebrows in silent question, he continues more hesitantly. “Watching you and Bellamy while we ate…” 

For a few seconds, he won’t quite meet her eyes, instead staring off at some spot over her shoulder. But when he finally does bring his hazel eyes back to hers, they are softer than she’s used to seeing them. 

“I think I was jealous,” he admits. Clarke’s intake of breath is audible. She has no idea what to say to that, but Roan continues without prompting. “You two have an unshakeable partnership, unending devotion to one another. I can see why you weren’t keen on entering into a marriage alliance without him.” 

“Roan…” 

“The Azgedan crown is a lonely one to wear,” he shrugs as if the sentiment doesn’t bother him, but there’s a crack in that rigid mask he’s always wearing. Clarke’s heart breaks for him a little. She’d been so focused on Bellamy’s potential sacrifice that she never thought about Roan’s. 

She moves to take one of his hands in between hers. It’s rough, work-worn like Bellamy’s. A contrast to her softer and smaller ones. 

“The crown doesn’t have to be lonely anymore, Roan. You have Bellamy and me, now. You have a partnership, a family — political marriage or not.” 

A small smile forms on his lips, genuine and sweet. Clarke longs to sketch it, like a rare flower that only blooms once every few years. 

“A family,” he repeats. “I like the sound of that.” 

Their hands remain interlocked for a few moments more before Clarke realizes she’s staring at him and takes a hasty step back. “Good,” she nods, smiling back at him. 

“Shall we?” he gestures toward the main section of the Ark where their afternoon meetings are taking place. Clarke falls back in beside him, a weird warm and fuzzy feeling taking root in her chest every time she glances over at her fiance — well, one of her fiances. 

*** 

Over the following three weeks, she spends almost every waking moment with Bellamy, Roan, or both. Her and Bellamy have given up appearances and fall asleep together each night. Roan meets them for breakfast before they spend days in meetings with coalition ambassadors or planning their upcoming marriage ceremony. 

As someone who’s always enjoyed being on her own, Clarke is surprised to find that she doesn’t mind the company. Of course, some evenings she’ll sneak off to watch the stars alone or take a walk around camp to clear her mind. But by and large, she looks forward to seeing her soon-to-be husbands day in and day out. 

For the first time since she first stepped foot on Earth, she feels like she’s not carrying the weight of everything by herself. Instead, she has these two other people, these two partners, by her side in everything. 

Her friends think it’s weird, her new relationship with Roan and Bellamy. To be fair, she would probably say the same thing in their shoes. It’s hard to explain, their current arrangement. 

“So, you’re sleeping with Bellamy. That much is obvious,” Raven says one afternoon when she and Clarke are alone. 

Roan had left that morning back to Azgeda to handle some logistical things at home, and Bellamy had gone hunting with Miller and Harper. That left Clarke to her own devices, and Raven had snatched her up for an afternoon stroll to the waterfall as soon as she realized she was free. 

Things have been tense between the two of them since ALIE. Raven still blames Clarke for Finn, even if she doesn’t want to admit it out loud. And Raven had said some horrible things while chipped that still eat at both Clarke and Bellamy. But they are working on it, working through it. 

“Yes,” Clarke confirms, wary of the direction in conversation. 

“But you’re not sleeping with Roan.” 

“No.” Raven fixes her with a disbelieving stare. “I’m not! The marriage alliance is political from his perspective. A logical next step for our clans.” 

“But you don’t want it to be just political,” the brunette guesses pointedly. She’s got an eyebrow raised like she’s figured out some puzzle that Clarke hasn’t, and Clarke squirms under her calculating stare. 

“Why would you even say that? Of course it’s just political. I love Bellamy,” Clarke shoots back defensively. Raven puts her hands up in mock defense, eyebrows raised. 

“Everyone knows you two idiots are ass-backward in love with each other. But just because you love Bellamy doesn’t mean you don’t feel something for Roan, too. Hell, you’re going to marry the guy. I don’t think anyone would blame you for catching feels.” 

“Bellamy might.” The words slip out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, before Clarke can stop them. Raven’s eyes widen at the inadvertent admission, but she doesn’t give any other reaction. 

Clarke buries her head in her hands. How could she let this happen? 

She’s _just_ gotten to a good place with Bellamy, where she feels like they are strong and in this together and can actually make it. And then Roan goes and proposes a fucking marriage alliance, and her and Bellamy go and agree to it. And now she’s in love with one man with growing admiration for the other, and everything is a mess. 

“Clarke,” Raven deadpans, forcing Clarke to look up at her. She’s surprised to find empathy in her friend’s eyes, as if she knows what Clarke is feeling. “Just talk to him about it, talk to both of them about it. They’re marrying you and each other for Christ’s sake.” 

“How is any of this going to turn out well? What are they going to do, share me?” 

“It’s not about sharing you like you’re some object, Clarke. It’s about each of you being ⅓ of a gear shift that works best when you’re together.” 

“I’m going to need you to explain that metaphor.” Raven takes a second, looking up as if the words she’s looking for would fall out of the sky like rain. 

“Loving two people isn’t about splitting your heart between the two of them, or ‘sharing’ each other. It’s like...a puzzle. But instead of two pieces like some relationships, there are three. Two will still fit together without the third piece, but that final piece can make the picture whole.” 

Clarke takes a second to think it through. A puzzle… it makes more sense than Clarke wants to admit to herself. Bellamy has always been her person, from the day they both went to that depot back during their dropship days. And he makes her feel safe and pushes her to be a better person. But Roan fits in a different way. He helps her embrace the tough choices, makes her feel like she’s not the only one making impossible choices. 

Something occurs to Clarke, then. “Wait, since when are you an expert on polyamorous relationships?” 

For the first time since Clarke met her, she sees a flush creep over Raven’s cheeks as she averts Clarke’s inquisitive stare. 

“Raven Reyes, are you seeing somebody? Are you seeing two somebodies?” 

She rolls her eyes, and turns to stick her legs back into the water from their rocky perch, but Clarke doesn’t miss the small smile that plays at the corner of her lips. Now that she thinks about it, Raven has been spending a lot of time with Murphy and Emori since they all settled back into Arkadia. 

“I’m happy for you, Raven,” she says sincerely, reaching a hand out to cover Raven’s. 

They settle into a comfortable silence, the only sound the birds in the trees around them and Raven’s feet occasionally splashing in the water. But Clarke doesn’t mind the silence; it gives her time to reconcile the love she has for Bellamy alongside the budding feelings she has for Roan in her mind. 

When they get back to Arkadia’s gates, the two women split apart with smiles and soft waves. Clarke heads straight for her room, finding Bellamy lounging on her bed with a book. 

She crawls up the bed to curl up next to him, careful to duck under his arm so that he can continue reading. But as soon as her head lands on his shoulder, he dog-ears his page and sets the book aside. 

“I didn’t mean for you to stop reading,” she says, closing her eyes and snuggling deeper into his embrace. 

“I’ve already read it anyway. I was just waiting for you,” he says as he wraps his arms around her and places a gentle kiss to her temple. 

She takes a minute to just enjoy being surrounded by him — the strength of his arms, the steady heartbeat against her ear, the comforting scent of pine and _Bellamy_ that never fails to make her feel like she’s home. 

“I missed you today,” he admits, his voice low as if he’s embarrassed by the statement. “That’s weird, right? I saw you this morning, kissed you this morning.” 

“Did a lot more than just kiss me,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows at him. He chuckles, and she lays her head back down on his chest. “No, it’s not weird. I missed you, too.” 

“I’ve gotten used to having you and Roan with me most of the day. It was weird not having both of you around.” 

She sees the opening and decides to take it. “Yeah, Roan really has become a significant part of our lives,” she starts, hesitant. 

“Yeah.” He shifts a little, and she tilts her head to look up at him. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, gears shifting in his head. Clarke takes it as a good sign. 

“Have you ever thought about having a threesome with him?” She swears she’d meant to be more subtle, but the words had tumbled from her mouth in a rush as soon as she’d opened it. Both of her hands fly up to cover her face, hiding her now flushed cheeks from Bellamy. 

But he just carefully pries them away from her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. She doesn’t find the judgement or disappointment there that she’d feared—not that she really expected him to judge her for it deep down. Sex is sex, and it’s not like he was shy about the world knowing his sexcapades when they first landed. It’s the unmentioned feelings part that she’s truly nervous about. 

“Princess, don’t hide from me,” he says gently. 

“It’s not… I’m not hiding from the question itself. I just meant to ask it with a little more tact.” 

“Subtlety isn’t exactly your forte, babe.” She shoots him a mock offended glare, and he just chuckles. “To answer your question… yeah, I’ve thought about it. We’ve both discussed that we find him attractive.” 

Clarke twists to lie on her stomach to continue talking to him. She needs to gauge his facial expressions for this conversation, and craning her neck isn’t comfortable. “When we were both single, yes. But we’re together now, and adding someone else into the bedroom mix is a big step.” 

“It is,” he agrees. He’s back to looking at the ceiling with that unreadable expression on his face, and she wishes more than anything that she could read his mind at this moment. “But, I mean, we’re marrying him. It isn’t that big of a leap, even if this arrangement did start out as purely political.” 

_Even if this arrangement did start out as purely political._ Clarke turns that phrase over in her mind. So he doesn’t think it’s purely political anymore? Does that mean he’s caught on to Clarke’s feelings for Roan? Bellamy does know Clarke better than she knows herself sometimes, but surely he wouldn’t have picked up on it if she didn’t even realize it until the past couple of days. 

“This isn’t just about the sex, is it?” Bellamy’s voice pulls her back from her mental spiral. She doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. She isn’t going to lie to him and tell him no. But she also doesn’t want to hurt him or make him feel like her feelings for him have changed in any way. 

She sighs, shifting her gaze to meet his eyes. “Not entirely,” she admits. She steals herself for him potentially saying something hurtful—he lashes out when he’s hurt, even when he doesn’t necessarily mean to. 

But he only gives her a sympathetic smile. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” That definitely isn’t the response she was expecting. 

“I kinda just did,” she points out. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize it at first, and once I did I was just scared. You’re everything to me, and this whole arranged marriage with Roan is confusing and complicated. I didn’t want to hurt you over something I wasn’t sure about.” 

“I never want you to keep something from me because you’re scared about my reaction, Clarke. I love you, and I want you to be happy. And that means being honest with me about _what_ will make you happy.” He moves a hand to cup her cheek, and she leans into the contact. She doesn’t deserve this beautiful, thoughtful man. 

“I love you, too. And just to be clear, this doesn’t change how I feel about you. You are my favorite person in the world, and I cannot imagine my life without you by my side. It’s just...Roan is…” she trails off, not knowing how to explain it. 

“I know what you mean,” he murmurs, in that uniquely Bellamy way that tells Clarke he’s mulling over something in his head. “Well, in the interest of being honest… I think I sort of feel the same way.” 

The admission shocks Clarke, and she must give him one hell of a confounded look because he just chuckles at her. 

“What? I’m marrying the man, too. You didn’t think it was in the realm of possibility that we’d both be going through the same thing?” 

Bellamy has feelings for Roan, too. She knows they go hunting together a lot; it really shouldn’t be some big surprise that he’s developed an attachment to their fiance as well. 

“We’ve been absolute idiots, haven’t we?” 

“Not the first time...or the last, if I had to bet.” 

She smiles at him, dumbfounded yet again by the man she fell in love with. And now she gets to marry him and Roan — the third piece to her puzzle. And as she curls herself into Bellamy’s side to sleep, she feels an all-encompassing happiness she’s never quite felt before. Like something clicked into place for the first time. 

*** 

Clarke looks at herself in the mirror, a small smile on her face. She’s wearing a simple gown made with ivory-colored fabric. There is lace wrapped around the bodice and over her arms — the only sleeves on the dress.

There’s a chill in the air — one that will be even colder when she’s outside for the ceremony — but Clarke can’t even feel it. She’s excited and nervous and incandescently happy. 

Her and Bellamy had decided until tonight to talk to Roan about making their marriage more than just a political arrangement. She’s pretty sure he feels the same, if the way she catches him staring after Bellamy on occasion and Bellamy’s insistence that he watches her with a lovestruck smile on his face anytime she’s bossing people around Arkadia. But still — they wanted to make it special, and today is certainly that. 

The ceremony is a mix of many traditions, a little bit of Azgeda with a little bit of Skaikru and a nod to each one of the other clans. 

Clarke’s dress is Trikru — a gift from Indra to show her support. And all three of their cloaks for the exchanging ceremony are Azgedan-made. There are rings — a skaikru tradition. They’ll each be walking down their own aisle coming from opposite directions — a Yujleda tradition. Dots lined each of their foreheads as a nod to Trishanakru. Each were wearing stone necklaces out of respect to their elders — gifts from Boudalan. And so on and so forth. 

When it’s time, Abby escorts her to where her “journey to her betrothed begins.” From there, she will make the walk alone to the center circle where an elder is waiting for all three of them to join. They’d been practicing this walk for over a week, trying to get the timing right between all three of their gaits. 

But as she sees the men she is marrying today, both smiling like idiots, she doesn’t care one bit about the way her dress is dragging or the timing of the walk or any of the people watching them from the crowd. 

Growing up, Clarke never thought she’d marry for love. Most of her life, she figured she’d marry Wells one day, even if she only loved him as a friend. And once on the ground, she wasn’t sure she’d ever marry at all. Hell, she wasn’t sure if she’d live long enough to get married. 

But now she gets to marry not one but two amazing people — two men who inspire her and push her and take care of her and support her and sometimes frustrate the ever-loving hell out of her. And she couldn’t wait. 

Clarke tries to pay attention throughout each part of the ceremony, but it’s hard. Their hands are all interlocked as the elder speaks the ceremony in trigedasleng, and she is barely following the words before it’s their turn to exchange their vows. Roan had asked if they could use the Azgedan vows, and neither Clarke nor Bellamy had objected. 

“Today I give myself so that together we may be stronger,” he says his first line, voice filled with conviction and sincerity. 

“And I to you,” Clarke says, a small smile on her lips as she meets each of their eyes. 

“And I to you,” Bellamy repeats at last.

The elder wraps another piece of fabric around their hands. 

“My blade is yours to draw.” 

“And my shield is yours to raise.” 

“Just as my heart is yours to keep.” 

They each take turns with their lines, taking a deep breath before saying the last bit in unity: “I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next.” 

And just like that, Clarke is a married woman...with two husbands. 

The celebration that follows the ceremony is the biggest party that Clarke’s ever attended. Delegations from all of the clans to celebrate the new union between Azgeda, Skaikru, and Wanheda — who was still seen as a bit of a legend throughout many of the outlying clans. And when they say celebrate, they mean celebrate. 

Most of the clans make their own variation of alcohol, and Monty and Jasper both made a significant amount of their flavored moonshine for the occasion. Everyone is tispy and dancing around the assorted fires, eating freely with other clans people. 

It warms Clarke’s heart to stare out into the crowd and see so many people starting to bridge the divide. To think that she’s had a small part in making this happen — and all because of a marriage proposal she was so sure was a joke when Roan first floated the idea — is an incredible feeling. 

“You look stunning, _wife_ ,” a voice whispers into her ear, lips moving to brush over her pulse point before pulling away. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, _husband,_ ” she says back, leaning into Bellamy with a smile. “I can’t believe I came out of the apocalypse with two gorgeous husbands,” she continues loud enough for both Bellamy and Roan to hear, reaching a hand out for both of them. She’s a bit tipsy, her inhibitions down for the night. 

Roan raises his eyebrows at her, but that cocky smirk both of her husbands wear so well slowly takes over his mouth. 

The musicians from Trishanakru started a new song, and Clarke stands up. “I want to dance.” She gets a few steps away from their table before she realizes they haven’t followed her. “With the two of you, in case that wasn’t clear,” she says with a pointed gaze over her shoulder. Both men give a glance to each other before pushing back their own chairs to join her. 

They dance beneath the stars, Clarke slotting herself between both Roan and Bellamy. She leans into Roan more than is absolutely necessary, just testing out his reaction. One of his hands snakes under the fur she’s wearing as a jacket over her dress to grab her hip, the other coming over her shoulder to hold onto Bellamy’s shoulder. Excellent. 

Clarke doesn’t know how long they stay out on the makeshift dance floor, rotating between dancing just the three of them and then breaking off to dance with friends and family members. It’s the most fun Clarke’s ever had on the ground, laughing with her friends and her husbands as if there isn’t a care in the world. 

Tomorrow there would be alliances to finalize and living arrangements to be sorted and people to lead in this mess called life. But tonight? Tonight she was just a woman enjoying the fresh air, the crystal clear stars, and the two men she now got to call hers. 

Eventually, Bellamy suggests they retire to their tent, which TriKru had set up away from Arkadia for privacy on their first night as a married trio. Clarke had blushed at the way Indra looked at her as she informed her of the arrangements being made, but she hadn’t complained. 

The three of them say their goodbyes — and Clarke doesn’t miss Raven’s shit-eating grin as they gather their things to leave together. 

When they do get to the tent, Roan stands awkwardly at the entranceway. 

“I’ll leave you two alone for the night. Tomorrow we can meet for breakfast and finalize a few of the details on how this will all work — I assume you’ll each want to stay in Arkadia, and I need to spend time in Azgeda. We can work out a schedule of sorts—” he’s rambling, which is very un-Roan-like, and Clarke can’t help but smile. It’s not like him to be unsure of himself, and even more rare for him to show it outwardly. 

She reaches out to take one hand, and Bellamy does the same with the other. And Clarke wishes more than anything she could have a picture of the realization as it dawns on his face. 

“So we’ve been meaning to have a discussion with you about something,” she starts, a hesitant smile on her face. 

“And there’s no pressure for you to decide tonight…” Bellamy clarifies. 

“But we’re married now, the three of us, and Bellamy and I wanted to discuss how you’d feel about taking things beyond just a political alliance.” 

Roan is quiet for a few minutes, and nerves start to set in. Maybe he doesn’t actually feel the same way, maybe she’s been reading into the looks and the late-night conversations, and the innocent touches, maybe she’s confusing friendship with romantic interest, maybe— 

“Sure.” 

“Sure?” 

“That’s what Bellamy said the night I proposed the arrangement between the three of us, isn’t it?” 

It’s at this moment that Bellamy bursts out laughing, releasing Roan’s hand to double over when he can’t catch his breath. And god, Clarke can’t help but join in. 

“The way…the way Clarke...almost murdered me...after I said that,” Bellamy sputters out between fits of laughter. Roan looks so confused, and honestly Clarke doesn’t blame him. 

“So there’s actually a lot we should probably talk about,” Clarke says when she’s caught her own breath, and they all three head inside. 

When Indra had informed Clarke Trikru was setting up a tent for them, Clarke had assumed it would include a cot large enough for three and maybe a place to put their clothes. But this? This was nicer than even her quarters at Arkadia. 

A wooden bed topped with blankets and furs to ward off the night air was placed at the center of the room, a wash bin sat on top of a dresser in one corner, and a chair was propped in the other. 

When they are all a bit settled with their cloaks off and another round of drinks — though this time with wine brought by the Louwoda Kliron Kru — Clarke starts at the beginning. She tells him about how she mistakenly believed his original proposal was a joke, and then about how his conversation with Bellamy forced them to finally have a conversation about their relationship, and then about how they’d both been developing non-political feelings for him throughout their engagement. 

To Roan’s credit, he sits quietly through the entire saga — even when Bellamy and Clarke get into a minor bickering match about Clarke’s statement that they probably wouldn’t have gotten together without that push. 

And when Clarke has gone through the entire thing, right up to the moment when Bellamy lost it at Roan’s response, he looks at Bellamy with a straight face and says, “You thought the adequate answer to a proposal between a man you didn’t even like at the time and the woman you were harboring secret feelings for was, ‘sure’?” 

“THANK YOU,” Clarke all but yells, feeling validated. “See, I was not crazy to react that way!” 

Bellamy just chuckles, shaking his head. “What was I supposed to say? No, I won’t marry the woman I’m in love with?” 

“Well, you probably should have told her you were in love with her before accepting a marriage proposal,” Roan points out. But then he turns on Clarke, “But also, why didn’t you correct me when you thought it was a joke?” 

“I didn’t know it wasn't a joke until you proposed to Bellamy! And then he went and agreed to it before I could explain.” 

“Jok, you two are a mess.” 

Clarke opens her mouth to argue, but then she meets Bellamy’s amused stare and she decides Roan’s not technically wrong. 

“And yet you married us anyway,” she says instead, a flirtatious smile on her lips. Roan matches her expression with his own, standing up from the chair in the corner to close the distance between them. 

“That I did,” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he all but crowds her up against the edge of the bed. There’s a challenge in his eyes as he stares at her, a small smirk playing at his lips. And she knows he’s waiting for her to make the move. 

So without taking a minute to overthink the implications of what she’s starting, she leans up and captures his lips with hers. 

His lips are softer than she would have expected, an anomaly to the man who was otherwise all hard edges. He wasn’t unlike Bellamy in that way — it seems she has a type. 

She pulls back after that first kiss, this time challenging him. And he doesn’t disappoint. Both of his hands come up to grasp her cheeks and pull her back to him, and the way he devours her leaves no room for misinterpretation. 

_He wants this, too._

Bellamy watches silently from across the room for a few moments, but then Roan pulls back and gestures for him to join. With a wicked smirk of his own, he walks slowly to where Clarke and Roan are standing. She feels herself blush at the way he stares at both of them as he approaches—they’ve not even touched her yet and she can feel herself getting wetter by the second. 

Bellamy gives Clarke a downright dirty kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth without preamble before turning his attention to Roan. Clarke watches enraptured as their lips connect, both immediately fighting for dominance. 

“I think Wanheda likes a show,” Roan almost growls when he and Bellamy break apart. 

She gives a shameless grin. “If you could see yourselves right now, you wouldn’t blame me.” 

Bellamy’s hands reach out to grasp at her hips, moving her in between himself and Roan with her back to his chest. As Roan captures her mouth again, Bellamy’s teeth drag lightly over that sensitive spot right where her shoulder and neck meet. She gasps into Roan, tilting her head to give Bellamy easier access without breaking her kiss. 

The sensation of both men surrounding her—their lips demanding her attention in different ways—is overwhelming in the best way, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to last the rest of the night if just kissing them is getting her this keyed up. 

Roan moves his hands to rest on top of where Bellamy’s grasping her hips, their fingers interlacing. She takes the opportunity while both of their hands are busy to explore Roan’s chest. It’s then that it occurs to her that they are all fully clothed, something that needs to change immediately. 

“Naked, now,” she demands between kisses, moving to help Roan strip off his shirt. But he grabs her hands, halting her progress with a stern look. 

“It’s hot when you take charge out there,” Roan leans in to whisper in her ear. “But that’s not how it’s going to be in here, Wanheda.” 

Before this moment, Clarke hadn’t really considered that she married two dominant men. She was too, outside of the bedroom. But she liked to give up control most nights in favor of letting Bellamy take charge. 

She shivers at the idea of both men taking charge—making her feel good, telling her how to make each of them feel good. 

Bellamy, who up until this point has been silent in favor of showing every inch of her exposed skin how much he adores her, whispers into her other ear. “Let go, Clarke.” 

And at both of their requests, she relaxes completely. Roan smiles, the look of approval in his eye making her heat up in more ways than one. 

Deft fingers unbutton her dress from behind, and Roan releases her hands to help Bellamy peel the lace sleeves off her arms. As he pulls the dress the rest of the way off of her body, Bellamy’s hands wander around her to cup her bare breasts.

She hadn’t needed to wear a bra with the type of cups that had been sewn into the dress, a fact Bellamy is obviously appreciative of. His groan vibrates against the skin at the back of her neck as he rolls her nipples between both of his fingers. 

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know the only thing covering you was the fabric of the dress or sitting through that celebration after the ceremony would have been a lot harder.” 

She smiles as she leans back against him, a hand stretching back to dive into his curls. 

Roan kisses his way up her body, lifting one leg to place it on his shoulder. His tongue leaves a trail up the inside of her thigh, inching slowly toward her center. And she can’t help but roll her hips toward him impatiently, wanting him to move just a little faster. 

Bellamy’s got her nipples pebbled and hard, and each twist of his fingers is like a shock of electric need straight to her clit. His calloused hands dig into her hips hard enough to keep her immobile, but he gives her what she wants with a long lick up her center. 

Clarke moans at the sensation. But then he stands, and she has to hold in a noise of frustration. 

“Lay back on the bed, Clarke. I want to see how Bellamy makes you come with his mouth.” His voice is commanding, hoarse with lust. And Clarke can’t help but follow his instructions. 

“You just want to watch me do all the work,” Bellamy teases him, a flirtatious grin on his face. 

“Maybe,” Roan grins cheekily, leaning into him for a quick kiss. God, she loves these two smug assholes. 

“I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you since the moment I laid eyes on you in that dress, Princess,” Bellamy murmurs when he turns his attention back to her once she gets settled at the edge of the bed. He’s obviously in no hurry, taking his sweet time to kiss up the inside of her thighs. 

When she doesn’t think she can take it anymore—her hips wiggling under his firm grip—his tongue finally flicks over her clit. Her hips try to buck at the contact, but his hands keep her still. He works her up quickly with teasing licks and well-placed nicks of his teeth. They’ve only been sleeping together for months at this point, but he’s already learned his way around her body better than she even knows herself. 

Within minutes, he has her moaning and whimpering against him as he picks up the pace. 

Suddenly, she feels him groan against her, the vibration sending a torturous spike of pleasure through her. She lifts herself on her elbow to watch him, and she’s greeted with the image of Roan standing behind him with a hand wrapped around his hardened cock. 

He doesn’t even have all of his clothes off yet, as if Roan got halfway there and decided he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. 

“God, that’s so hot,” she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else. But Roan just smirks at her, his eyes darkened with desire. 

“You like seeing me get Bellamy hard while he gets you off with his tongue, pretty girl?” 

Clarke doesn’t know if it’s the way Bellamy chooses that moment to roll her clit lightly between his teeth, the downright dirty way Roan’s voice dips even lower when he calls her ‘pretty girl,’ or a combination of both, but her orgasm crashes over her and she arches in pleasure as it overtakes all of her senses. 

Bellamy places kitten licks over her while she comes down from her high. And she braces herself on her elbows again to watch Roan pull Bellamy up and turn him around for a searing kiss. 

“I can taste you on him, Clarke,” he all but moans into Bellamy’s mouth, and Clarke gives them both a wicked smile. “Maybe I should try for myself.” 

“Later,” Bellamy orders, roughness in his voice. “I’ve got something else in mind.” 

Clarke watches enraptured as they strip off the rest of their clothes until all three of them are gloriously naked. She’d had time to get used to seeing Bellamy in all of his glory — though the absolute beauty of the man standing in front of her never goes unappreciated. 

But Roan? This is the first time Clarke’s ever been able to see all of him. Let’s just say she certainly isn’t disappointed. His chest and abs are defined, and there’s a course smattering of hair that starts at his chest and trails down until it gets to his cock. 

At first look, it’s shorter than Bellamy’s but also thicker. And she can’t wait to get her mouth on it. But it seems Bellamy has the same thought because he wastes no time licking a stripe up the underside of Roan’s shaft. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Roan teases as he watches her. Clarke just gives an innocent shrug, despite the anything-but-innocent way she’s lounging on the bed with her legs still spread open as she stares. 

Bellamy takes a moment to turn and see for himself, giving her a lecherous grin. “Touch yourself while you watch, Princess.” His voice leaves no room for argument, taking on that hardened edge that he only brings out with her when he’s telling her what to do in the bedroom. 

He turns his full attention back to Roan, and Clarke does as she’s told. She works herself up as Bellamy does the same, and Roan’s eyes never leave hers. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever expereinced, her fingers circling her clit while Bellamy sucks Roan’s dick and he watches her with pure lust and pleasure in his eyes. 

When she’s starting to get close, Roan grabs a handful of Bellamy’s hair to pull him up. “If you don’t stop, this night is going to be over for me before we even get going.” 

Bellamy releases Roan’s cock with a pop, and Clarke can’t help but moan at the sound. Both turn their attention to her, coming over to crawl up the bed on either side of her. 

“Are you close?” Bellamy whispers into her ear. “Are you about to make yourself come from watching your husbands?” 

“I think she is,” Roan chuckles. And god, she already knows that this is going to be her new life — both of them teaming up on her in the bedroom with their teasing to drive her absolutely wild with need. 

“Please,” she all but whimpers, fingers still rubbing at her clit. They lock eyes, silently agreeing on something. And before she has time to guess what is coming next, Roan moves his hand between her legs to thrust two fingers deep. She gasps at the sudden intrusion, her walls clenching tightly around him. 

“You’re so wet for us, Wanheda.” She’s always hated that nickname, but Roan says it with reverence—the same way Bellamy calls her Princess. And she doesn’t hate it when he says it, as if even the Commander of Death can be brought to her knees with pleasure. 

Bellamy leans in to bring one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hardened bud, and her head falls back at the sensation. Roan follows suit with her other breast, and it’s almost too much to handle. 

Between Roan’s fingers are pumping in and out of her and both of their mouths on her nipples, her own fingers lose their rhythm on her clit. But Bellamy notices and nips harshly at her skin, making her yelp in surprise. 

“Don’t you dare stop, Clarke,” he all but growls. She’s powerless to do anything other than follow his instruction, and within seconds she’s arching off the bed as another climax rips its way through her body. 

Roan moves to swallow her cries of ecstasy with his mouth, his fingers still moving lazily as her body contracts around him. That was so intense, and yet she wants more. 

She reaches for Bellamy, wrapping her hand around him and giving him a few gentle strokes. He grins at her. 

“Someone’s greedy this evening.” 

“As if I’m not always greedy for you,” she shoots back with a knowing grin. “And tonight I have both of you to enjoy.” At that, she wraps her other hand around Roan, exploring. 

Bellamy maneuvers up the bed to lay against the headboard, and Clarke reluctantly releases both of them to follow. “I want you inside of me,” she pleads, straddling his lap. 

And as Roan comes up behind her, his hands smoothing over her waist, she leans back against him saying, “I want both of you inside of me.” 

The twin groans that they release at that revelation are sinful, and Clarke’s body is already thrumming with anticipation. She’s been dripping all night—even more so now that they’ve made her come twice—but the idea of both of them thrusting into her at the same time? She’s a whole new level of turned on by the thought. 

Roan goes over to the dresser, opening drawers to look for Clarke doesn’t know what. But when he comes back holding a small jar, Bellamy just chuckles. 

“Indra really thought of everything when she prepped the tent for the night, huh?” It then dawns on Clarke that Roan’s holding a jar of lube. The picture of Indra putting together a list of what the tent would need for the night nearly sends Clarke into a fit of laughter. But then Roan crawls back onto the bed and takes her ass in his hands, and the last thing on her mind is Indra’s hospitality. 

Bellamy lines himself up with her opening while Roan guides her down with his hands still massaging her ass, and she releases another moan at the feeling of Bellamy filling her. 

“You always take me so well, Princess. So perfect,” his voice is rough, blissed out on the feeling of her cunt stretching to accommodate him. 

She starts slow, rocking her hips against him with shallow thrusts. Meanwhile, Roan’s finger circles between her asscheeks, teasing. The sensation is different—she and Bellamy haven’t experimented much with ass play—but she definitely doesn’t hate it. 

After a few moments, she finds herself trying to grind herself against Bellamy while rocking one way and against Roan’s fingers when she rocks the other. Roan notices, taking that as his cue to stick one lubed finger inside of her asshole while his other hand comes up to massage her breast. Her first instinct is to clench, but Roan leans in close to kiss her just below her ear. 

“Relax, Clarke. We’ve got you, love. Relax.” 

His finger continues to work itself inside of her while Bellamy continues his shallow thrusting from below, and she takes several deep breaths as she relaxes her muscles around Roan’s finger. 

“Good girl,” he coos, and Bellamy lets out a groan at the way Clarke’s cunt clenches down on his cock at the praise. Damn, it did not take Roan long to catch onto that particular kink. 

Clarke starts moving again, and Roan soon adds a second finger to the first. The feeling of both of them moving within her at once is exquisite and she knows it’ll be exponentially more intense when it’s Roan’s dick instead of his fingers. 

When he feels she’s ready for him, he gets Bellamy to move to sit up at the edge of the bed with her seated fully in his lap with her knees on either side of her hips. The new position is incredibly intimate, her nose-to-nose with Bellamy. 

She takes the opportunity to press her lips to him in a comparatively chaste kiss compared to what the rest of their bodies are doing. “I love you, so much,” she whispers. 

“And I love you.” 

Roan lines himself up behind her, the head of his cock nudging at her ass. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop,” he tells her gently, and affection fills her chest for him. She knows she won’t, that nothing could make her want to stop now. 

“Please Roan,” she all but begs him, the anticipation torturing her. 

He inches in slowly, so very slowly. And she was right about the feeling being so much more than just his fingers. She focuses on deep breaths, and Bellamy distracts her from the discomfort with his tongue on her neck. 

“You’re doing so good for us, Princess.” 

“That’s it, Clarke. Deep breaths, love.” 

She relaxes further at their encouragements, feeling so taken care of by these two men who are now hers. And pretty soon, discomfort makes way to pleasure and want. God, she wants. 

But Roan is still intent on taking his time and being as gentle as possible, easing his way in with slow and shallow thrusts while Bellamy remains still beneath her. She finds herself canting her hips against Bellamy for some friction, but he stills her hips with his hands so that she’s forced to remain still. 

“Stop taking so long. Move, dammit,” she orders, her voice laced with lust and frustration. 

Bellamy smiles at her outburst, and Roan clicks his tongue behind her in warning. “What did I say about giving orders in here, Wanheda?” 

“You just married the bossiest woman on Earth, so I’d get used to it,” Bellamy chuckles, now mouthing at her collarbone. “But you’ll learn the best ways to shut her up, too.” And the grin is wiped off her face as he uses the hold he has on her hips to thrust up and hit a spot deep inside of her that makes her toes curl. Her head falls back and her eyes close as a lightning strike of pleasure shoots through her. 

“Ohmygod,” she moans. She could feel every inch of Bellamy rub against Roan through the thin separation between them, making the movement 10 times more intense. 

But that must convince Roan she’s ready for him to start moving as well because then he’s slowly sliding out of her before pushing back in. 

It takes a few thrusts for Bellamy and Roan to find a rhythm that works, but when they do it’s the purest form of ecstasy Clarke has ever experienced. Every thrust from Bellamy rocks her back against Roan and every thrust from Roan rocks her clit against Bellamy’s pubic bone, and it’s not long before she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. 

Once again, Roan and Bellamy lock their hands on her hips, staying connected even though Clarke is between them, and it’s all Clarke can do to hold on as the sensations of their combined movements overtake her. 

She’s unable to stop the cries from escaping her at every new angle they hit and every particularly forceful thrust inside of her. But she doesn’t care if the entire world hears her at this point, as long as they don’t stop. 

Her third orgasm takes her by surprise, the tension building and then snapping at warp speed. But Bellamy and Roan give her no reprieve, continuing their thrusts as she clenches against them. 

“You’re so damn gorgeous when you come,” Bellamy marvels. And Roan groans his agreement, placing a reverent kiss on her shoulder. 

She isn’t sure if another orgasm is already building or if she’s still riding the most recent one to a higher peak, but within minutes she feels her muscles coil yet again. 

“I’m close,” Roan says, reaching between her and Bellamy to rub harsh circles at her clit. 

“Come for us again, Princess,” Bellamy coaxes, his own thrusts becoming erratic beneath her. 

And at that, she comes apart one last time, a silent scream on her lips as waves of pleasure flood her body. She feels Bellamy’s own release deep inside her, her walls contracting around him as he comes. And as she comes down, she fees Roan pull out to come across her back. 

She slumps against Bellamy, completely spent and more satiated than she’s ever been in her life. Fuck, she could get used to this. 

Her eyes drift closed for a moment as she curls herself into Bellamy’s firm chest, trying to catch her breath. Roan and Bellamy must clean her up while she’s still in her daze—when she comes to, they are all three back up on the bed curled beneath the blankets. 

“I love you both so much,” she murmurs against the chest she’s currently laying on—Roan’s, she thinks vaguely. 

And she wants to stay up with them, to talk about the wedding and maybe sort through some of these feelings that are threatening to explode from her chest. But she’s surrounded by warmth and her body is telling her everything else can wait until after she spends the night curled between her two favorite people. 

The last thing she hears before sleep finally overtakes her is Roan’s deep voice say, “I love you, too. Both of you,” as Bellamy wraps an arm around her waist. 

***

She wakes up to sunshine filtering into the tent, stretching her limbs. There’s that wonderful soreness when she shifts her hips to roll onto her back, and she smiles at the memories of the night before. _One hell of a wedding night_ , she thinks to herself smugly. 

Bellamy’s legs are tangled between hers, and he’s got an arm thrown over not just Clarke but also Roan. Meanwhile, Roan has an arm under Clarke’s head with his fingers resting in Bellamy’s hair. She could get used to waking up with the three of them well and tangled up together like this. 

She snuggles back into their collective embrace, letting out a content sigh when Roan shifts closer to press a half-asleep kiss to her forehead. It's the day after their wedding, and she figures sleeping in a little while longer wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

Damn, Clarke really does love mornings. 

**Author's Note:**

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